


Tsukishima's Mom's Favorite Beverage is Hot Chocolate

by Choking_Noises



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Hot Chocolate, M/M, Secret Santa Exchange, not funny or cute or pleasurable you probably wont like it, sick yamaguchi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-07 22:29:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13444743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Choking_Noises/pseuds/Choking_Noises
Summary: Yamaguchi has the immune system of an Octopus and Tsukishima ACTUALLY thought that joke was funny.





	Tsukishima's Mom's Favorite Beverage is Hot Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> One time when I was drawing a picture of Yamaguchi and Tsukishima in my sketch book, I had added a small dialogue in the corner. This was when I had only watched three episodes may you mind. I spelled Tsukki "Tsookie." I later showed this to my life time cousin Leah who has been a part of the Haikyuu fandom for a considerable amount of time, asking her if I spelt everything right. She did not correct me. I lined that picture, left it like that, and it will haunt me and my Tsukkiyama memories until I die. Enjoy.

It’s 10:00pm. Kei doesn’t think that’s very late. Not too late to get up and make a bowl of soup and have to worry about waking up his parents, not too late to take a shower. Not too late to be texting Yamaguchi. 

But it is definitely too late to leave the house. 

Kei’s just a high schooler, still awkwardly asking his parents if he can hang out with so and so or ride his bike to the bakery. And he has to ask those things days in advance. His parents don’t trust him, and that’s a little offensive considering Kei is the most sensible teen he has ever met. They say teenage boys “think with their pants.”

Ok, yes, but Kei filters all that energy into insults. It’s his brand. 

Yamaguchi had texted him earlier. Kei knew Yamaguchi missed volleyball practice, but he assumed it was some health thing. Yamaguchi got sick a lot, little things like a cold and not so little things like the flu. Kei had been pressuring him to get a fucking shot but—whatever, it never happened. He’s too “afraid.” Just get the nasal spray, Tadashi. 

And as Kei predicted, Yamaguchi had fallen ill with a common case of Laryngitis. Stupid. 

“You’re fucking kidding,” Kei greeted Yamaguchi, calling him immediately after the text. “A sore throat? You went home early for that?” The line stalled, silence. Kei, on his way home from school, had readjusted his backpack and strode forward. 

“Tsukki,” Fuck. “I have a runny nose too.” This almost made Kei laugh. Yamaguchi’s voice sounded a little rough but nothing too extreme. Yeah, it was hot, kind of, but—no it wasn’t. His vocal cords are inflamed and phlegmy and—yeah no. He’s not sexualizing a sore throat. “Did anything happen at practice today?” 

“Yes,” Kei answered bluntly, teasing Yamaguchi. Of course  _ something _ happened at practice. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Yamaguchi rasped. “Did  _ I _ miss anything?” Kei liked how Yamaguchi understood his poor sense of humor. He knew exactly what reply would make Kei smirk a little, probably think about it for more than three seconds. 

“No,” Kei replied, turning the corner left. He imagined a sick Yamaguchi snuggled in his bed, all messy and in disarray. His nose was probably really red and adorable. But he’s sick, yeah he’s sick and that’s gross. Bacteria is gross. “They are all idiots.” 

Yamaguchi grunted over the phone, probably rolling his eyes. Was he blushing? Yamaguchi did that a lot. 

“Text me? My throat,” Yamaguchi coughed, awkwardly, for about a minute straight. Kei felt guilty, obviously chronic lost voiceness cannot be treated by excessive talking. 

“Sure,” Kei said after the last cough, simultaneously hanging up the phone and shoving it into his pocket. He’ll text him when he gets home. 

And they did text. From the moment Kei got into his room to the present, where Yamaguchi was complaining to him for the twentieth time today. 

**Yamaguchi: I really want some hot chocolate.**

**Tsukishima: I don’t think that’s good for your throat.**

Kei recalls reading on a website that milk isn’t good for phlegm. And he recalls hot chocolate has milk in it. Well, sometimes it doesn’t. 

**Yamaguchi: Idc i want some. :)**

**Tsukishima: Then go make some.**

Kei always had hot chocolate in his house, it was his mom’s favorite drink. Once when he was in elementary and had no filter, he called his mom a “chocoholic” because he had heard it in a TV show. Worst decision of his life, they still make fun of him for it. Maybe that’s why Kei doesn’t find anything funny. His humor has been tainted.

**Yamaguchi: I don’t have any i already checked.**

**Tsukishima: Tell your mom to buy you some.**

**Yamaguchi: She’s not home! My family left me home alone sick and frail.**

It might have just been Kei’s wild imagination, but it seemed a lot like Yamaguchi wanted him to come over. 

**Yamaguchi: I’m pretty frail tsukki.**

What the  _ fuck  _ does that mean. Yamaguchi must be delusional from the sickness. 

Like he said, it’s 10pm. It’s too late to go out. It doesn’t matter that Yamaguchi’s house is only ten minutes away. That his parents are already dozing off in their room, probably watching a dumb detective show. His brother isn’t home. He’s already got the hot chocolate. Fuck—stop. Stop convincing yourself. 

Does he have marshmallows?

**Yamaguchi: I literally just coughed up a hunk of chicken wtf.**

Ew. 

Kei picked up an empty bag from the corner of his room, shoving a phone charger into it. Also a tube of chapstick. 

**Yamaguchi: I think i’m getting a rash too.**

Ew. 

Kei slung the bag on his shoulder, tightening the draw. He can’t help but think that Yamaguchi is literally falling apart at the seems. He’s dying, he’s gross, and Kei has the potential of getting a rash now. 

But his parents are definitely asleep. 

**Yamaguchi: It’s just like a red patch on my left thigh. Idk how it got there i haven’t done anything all day tsukki.**

He’ll have to check that out when he gets there. 

Is this what they were? Friends who talked about rashes? 

Kei quietly went to the kitchen, retrieving a box of powdered hot chocolate packs and a bag of marshmallows. He reopened the bag, shoving the materials to achieve ultimate Tadashi happiness inside. 

Ok—but what the fuck was he actually doing? Kei doesn’t go out of his way for people. He almost gave up right there, just go back to his room and finish one of those virtual coloring pages. 

Then there was this awkward feeling. 

He doesn’t want to talk about it. 

Kei slipped on his shoes, bravely turning the knob on his front door with the distant image of Yamaguchi’s dark brown hair, wispy and soft, framing his face. 

Yamaguchi hadn’t lied. His parents weren’t home. That was mildly intimidating. 

Upon reaching the door, Kei let out a huff, expressing his doubtfulness to himself. No like really, what was he doing? 

Kei doesn’t do anything. He listens to music and went on a walk. Once. He just sits on his bed every weekend, reads, rolls around, sleeps. Sometimes he works out because he feels so dead inside that he isn’t even sure if he’s alive anymore. 

This was a big change for him, sneaking out on a Friday night to an unsupervised house to give his sick best friend some hot chocolate. Okay, Kei really shouldn’t be worried. This is Yamaguchi. 

This  _ is _ Yamaguchi. Fuck. 

Kei mindlessly pressed the doorbell, like he’s done a million times before. A million. But he still gets these weird butterflies in his stomach when a sleepy brown eye peeks through the window beside the door. The lidded eye quickly turns to wide and surprised as it meets Kei’s. He imagines Yamaguchi is thinking a thousand thoughts a minute, and Kei doesn’t remember why he didn’t warn him of his visit. 

Yamaguchi’s eye disappears for a moment long enough for Kei to notice, probably fumbling with the lock on the door, quickly opening it. 

“Tsukki?” Yamaguchi asked. He was standing weakly at the doorway, on hand on the doorknob and the other useless at his side. He was clothed in a dark green hoodie and a pair of boxers; obviously pajamas. Those worried eyes staring at him, huge and soft. His hair was knotted and messed around his ears and cheeks, darker than usual in the lighting. Freckles littered his body, a couple pimples on his flushed cheeks. His nose was a deep red, obviously being wiped with tissues all day. 

Wow. 

“You didn’t tell me you were coming over,” Yamaguchi giggles through a less hoarse voice, lightly grabbing Kei’s arm and dragging him into the house. His arm was tingling, which sounds really awfully romantic when he says it out loud. Or thinks it. Whatever. “I’m gonna get you sick!” Yamaguchi closes the door behind them, relocking the chain at the top. 

“You have the immune system of an Octopus,” Kei frowns, following Yamaguchi to wherever he’s going. Kei has been to Yamaguchi’s house so many times that he knows how to get around like it’s his own, he’s just not really paying attention. 

“See, I don’t even get that. How am I supposed to know about an Octopus’s immune system?” Yamaguchi laughed again, going towards his room, Kei realizes. He grabs the back of Yamaguchi’s shirt and stops him in the kitchen. 

“Octopi can’t get vaccinated,” Kei explains as they make eye contact, uncomfortably close. Well, not  _ un _ comfortably _.  _ “I brought hot chocolate.” 

Kei gets to witness Yamaguchi’s already big eyes grow even huger into complete and utter happiness, and he throws himself into Kei, wrapping two flimsy arms around his neck. 

“You are the best,” Yamaguchi scrunches his nose into Kei’s shoulder, and he’s not exactly sure what to do with his arms, limp at his sides. Is this supposed to be a long hug? Should Kei hug back? Kei  _ wants  _ to hug back.

Thankfully, his questions don’t have to be answered because Yamaguchi quickly pulls away with flushed cheeks, instinctively shoving hands into his sweater pocket. 

“Sorry I—where is it?” Yamaguchi stutters and Kei can’t help but stare at the adorable friend he is so blessed to have. Did he—adorable?

“Oh, it’s uh, in my bag,” Kei also stutters, why is he stuttering? Haven’t they been friends since like, fucking middle school? And he’s  _ stuttering _ . Kei pulls it out of the bag and proceeds to make the hot chocolate, trying to mask his obvious confusion. 

He’s made hot chocolate a thousand times before, but his stomach is in knots and his heart is beating unusually fast. He just wants to get it over with. This was not a good idea. 

Yamaguchi continues to ramble, Kei trying his hardest to listen. He’s stirring then mixing then pouring and Yamaguchi is ranting about a character death in their favorite TV show, and Kei turns around with a rebuttal. 

“He  _ had _ to die,” He says, wielding two mugs of hot chocolate, both piled with marshmallows, steam floating from their tops. “It was for the progression of the show.” 

“Ugh,” Yamaguchi grunts, giving Kei a smiley-mad face. “What’s up with you and all the big words?” He then retrieved his cup and turns back towards his bedroom, Kei instinctively following. 

“ _ Progression  _ is not a big word,” Kei frowns, swooping around the corner and into Yamaguchi’s room. It’s actually pretty clean considering it’s Yamaguchi. There are a few miscellaneous clothing items thrown on the floor, his bed is a mess, about three cups of microwaveable ramen noodles at his bedside table. Yamaguchi resides into this blanket mush of a bed and snuggles himself underneath the covers, sitting up so he can sip his hot chocolate. 

Yamaguchi patted a spot close him in his bed and Kei hesitantly sat down on the covers, across from him. Yamaguchi was leaning his back on his wall while Kei was criss cross, rubbing his hands on his warm cup. 

“He didn’t have to die,” Yamaguchi continued, his voice a little quiet and scratchy. Kei wasn’t sure what to say to this, he wasn’t as passionate about television and everyone around him seemed to be. He did enjoy watching a TV show with Yamaguchi though, it was a good topic to talk about when they were both at a loss of words. But Kei really didn’t care about the character they were focusing on. 

He was quiet enough for Yamaguchi to say something else, apparently. 

“Yeah but,” Yamaguchi gripped his mug again and sniffled his nose a little, still sick. “Thanks for, um, bringing me this.” He referred to the hot chocolate. Yamaguchi looked a little feverish, out stretching his legs over the covers, probably trying to cool down. “It means a lot.” 

Kei wasn’t really sure how it meant a lot. It was a kind gesture, sure, but Yamaguchi knows Kei likes him. It’s not like he’s never done something like this before. Maybe not at (now) eleven at night. But one time he bought him some poster that he wanted at this store at the mall. That was nice. Kei does nice things. 

Nevertheless, it still made him feel a little good about himself. Yamaguchi legs were now sprawled out, freckles filtering down into light pink ankle socks. His skin was soft and exposed, boxers scrunched up to his mid thigh. His toes grazed Kei’s shin. 

Kei’s eyes traveled the length of Yamaguchi’s body, settling on his left thigh. He takes a sip of his chocolate, focusing. 

Kei sees that Yamaguchi’s cheeks are flushed again, his lips pink and emotionless. His eyes are blinking excessively as he stares back at Kei. 

“It doesn’t look like a rash,” Kei breaks the silence, not smooth at all. Yamaguchi face goes a shade darker, an embarrassed smile spreading across his face. 

“We do  _ not  _ have to talk about my rash, Tsukki. I’m sure there are like, a thousand other things we can talk about,” he whined, kind of loudly and pleadingly, very much not down for this conversation. He placed both of his hands on his thighs, covering them up. 

Yamaguchi was right. Who the fuck has a conversation about rashes? Well, it doesn’t look like a rash. And Kei could get a better consensus if he could actually see it. Is this an excuse Kei’s mind is making for wanting to touch Yamaguchi? No, never, no. 

Well, Kei is sure he could just  _ touch  _ Yamaguchi without a reason. Yamaguchi wouldn’t care. 

They simultaneously took sips of their hot chocolate, avoiding conversation. Probably. 

Kei has done a lot of daring things tonight. First of all, he left the house. Without permission. At  _ night time _ . Then he stole his mother’s hot chocolate. Which really wasn’t a big deal at all. Well none of this is really is a big deal. But—that doesn’t matter. Tonight is a wild night for Kei Tsukishima. He is wild. 

So.

He put his hand on Yamaguchi’s thigh. 

For the soul purpose of just touching Yamaguchi’s thigh, not to look at his rash! Which is disgusting. Shut up Kei. Oh fuck. There’s no going back now. 

“Huh?” Yamaguchi furrowed his brow, glancing up at Kei, breaking the stare with his mug. His face went through a thousand expressions until he started coughing. 

Violently, coughing. 

Kei jumped back immediately, protecting himself from airborne disease. That was long lived. 

After endless coughs, Yamaguchi’s body was red all over and tears pricked at his eyes, a sleeve wiping his mouth hastily. There were a few seconds of just heavy Yamaguchi breathing. He rolled to his bedside table and picked out a few tissues, blowing his nose. Kei cringed. 

“Sorry,” Yamaguchi laughed, balling up the tissues and throwing them into a bag next to his bed. That’s also disgusting.

Kei got resituated on the bed, taking one last sip of hot chocolate. “It’s ok.” 


End file.
